


tokyo hyperspeed

by Eistibus



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Horny Teenagers, Just two boys, M/M, Making Out, One is newly possessed by the most ruthless demon from hell, The other one may or may not have some heavenly origin, Then they make out and shit or smth idk, This has been brought to you by hotline miami ost, overspeeding into the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 00:29:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eistibus/pseuds/Eistibus
Summary: Outside the car windows, neon images blur away and melt into a migraine-inducing view, but Akira thinks he likes it. He feels a spike, a rush of toxic high he's pretty sure caused by Ryo driving at 120 kilometers per hour. He thinks there's a certain kind of harmony behind it all, some sick bassline reverberating through his skull, the chaos of pinks and whites messing with his head.(Akira's struggling to keep Amon down. Ryo wants to make out with him anyway.)





	tokyo hyperspeed

Akira leans back on the passenger seat and props his shoes on the dashboard. Beside him, Ryo doesn't react other than the slightest twinge of a frown. Akira flashes him a toothy grin.

"Relax, your Lambo can handle it." Akira says as he turns up the volume of the car's audio system. Ryo doesn't reply, and instead keeps a steady gaze on the mostly empty highway.

Outside the car windows, neon images blur away and melt into a migraine-inducing view, but Akira thinks he likes it. He feels a spike, a rush of toxic high he's pretty sure caused by Ryo driving at 120 kilometers per hour. He thinks there's a certain kind of harmony behind it all, some sick bassline reverberating through his skull, the chaos of pinks and whites messing with his head. The anticipation and the hunger deep seated underneath his skin, short whispers of _"kill, kill, kill"_ on repeat ever since that fateful day. He licks his lips, as if the moisture would cool down the bloodthirst inside him. He would have loved the high more if he didn't feel like blasting someone's brain off their heads every passing minute. That or fucking someone senseless.

(He hopes he doesn't reach the point where he fucks a blasted brain senseless.)

"Fuck yeah I love this song." Akira remarks as the next track comes through. He thinks that he might as well just take the moment to appreciate a hard beat, Amon's desires be damned.

Ryo glances at him from the front view mirror. Akira stares back at the other boy's eyes and hopes the dim nightscape hides the mania in his own.

"You're not holding up well are you?" Ryo asks, tone as stone cold like the marble tiles in his home. Akira lets out a shaky laugh, as if to highlight his rapidly destabilizing psychological state. He swallows down quickly building up saliva before replying.

"Absolutely not at all. It's getting harder to keep it all down." He runs a hand through his hair, a lame attempt to soothe the itch that isn't there but also everywhere all at once.

He chances a glance at the other boy's side profile. To reassure himself, to bring him down from the haze, he's not sure of the reason why. A feeling of familiarity creeps at the back of his neck, and Akira can't help but feel a little cheesy. But, he supposes, being like this with Ryo feels just right.

(Somewhere beneath Akira's active consciousness, Amon hums in agreement.)

He spends a few minutes alternating between checking out the cityscape at his left side and side glancing the other boy at his right. He learns quickly which view satisfies him better.

The music changes again, this time with a key tone that's a bit too sultry for Akira's jumbled mind. He looks much more closely this time, and reasons with himself that there's nothing wrong with staring unabashedly at your best friend.

_Yeah, there's absolutely nothing wrong with staring at your best bud's lips and thinking about doing stuff with them._

(He admits, guiltily, that this is not the first time he has thought about this. Not even the second, or third.)

The heat in his gut coils tighter and Akira feels his hold over Amon become thinner.

**_Take it. It's rightfully yours._ **

"Ryo. Stop driving for a sec." Akira says as he places his feet back down from the dashboard. One blond brow raises at him at the mirror. Ryo complies, slowing down next to a flickering lamp post. The neons outside freeze in place.

Ryo angles his body to face him, only for Akira to close in on his space abruptly, startling him for a brief second. He takes a moment to assess the other boy's expression.

_Estimating about fourty-three minutes before Akira's full decontrol._

"Akira? Something the matter?" He asks, pale fingers slowly moving to grasp on the black shirt over Akira's shoulder. Akira grabs at his wrists and tugs him closer. Ryo feels one of the other boy's hands grasp at the back of his neck, while the other settles on his side. Then, Akira bumps their foreheads together. A gesture that Ryo has never done (and never will) with anyone else.

"Ryo..." Akira says so quietly, words shifting the air only in the slightest bit. The apple at his throat bobs up down, and Ryo stares.

"I'm losing my grip."

Like this, under the shadows of midnight Tokyo, Akira looks vulnerable. A juxtaposition from the boy who had emerged from the sabbath many nights ago. Ryo thinks that if he looks hard enough, he might be able to see the boy that once was.

But he knows that everything has changed, with no one else to blame but him. He pulls back to look at Akira's face and notes the differences from the face he has burned into his memory; the change in his eyes, his jawline, his nose bridge. All too different, as if Akira had went through a second puberty.

In spite of all the transformations, he also notes that the way he feels about Akira never changed. He's not sure what it means for one's mind to drift back to the same person in whatever happenstance, not sure what it means to see the future with that one person, no matter what version of the future it was.

Was it trust? Was it admiration? Was it respect?

 _Love does not exist._ He invokes as if to remind himself.  _Humans are weak creatures. They place arbitrary meanings in things, whether or not they understand them fully._

He moves his hands from where they were resting on Akira's shoulders and places them on either side of the other boy's cheeks. "When everything falls apart," he breathes out, running the backs of his fingers over Akira's temples.

"I will be the one to catch you."

Akira hums, eyes slowly closing, seemingly soothed by the touch.

"So let loose. You have nothing to be afraid of, as long as you're with me." Ryo replies, fully aware what his words might mean to Akira. This, he knows for a fact, is something he can capitalize on. Lust, he believes, is not superficial. And depending on the context, can be utilized to procure gains. For this, the gain is for Akira's physical and psychological state to stabilize.

_Yes, it's all for Akira's wellbeing._

At least, that's what he tries to say to himself.

"You don't know how dangerous that sounds like to me." Akira replies, having taken a second too long to reply. He looks at him, eyes blown wide, pupils having narrowed down into slits. Ryo feels the hand at his side tighten in the same moment. He rests his fingers behind Akira's nape and leans forward to gaze at him under hooded eyes.

"Why, Akira? What's stopping you?" He says easily. The air between them shifts as the other boy inhales sharply. Ryo watches as the muscles in Akira's throat tighten.

Across him, Akira fights a mental war. He tries to consider Ryo's words, _'Let loose he said. Let loose let loose **let loose.** '_ He grows impossibly excited. The lust he's been trying to quell balloons out, and Akira thinks he should feel nauseated. Deep down he feels Amon's desires rise along with the beating of his heart and the tension of his body.

As much as he wanted to curse the demon, this want, this longing-- he is sure would have persisted one way or another, with or without possession. Although he does think there's a couple of perks to getting possessed. He owes it to Amon for him feeling absurdly confident about himself, as well as the loss of shame for doing or thinking about many banal things.

He feels the other boy's fingers rub circles on his nape, and watches as Ryo's mouth slowly curl into a smirk.

"Do you know what you are doing?" Akira breathes out shakily. Tendrils of doubt evaporate from his brain as the curl of Ryo's mouth grows wider the same time he moves both his hands to rest on Ryo's waist.

The lamp post outside flickers once, twice.

"Yes." Ryo says with absolute clarity.

The light flickers again, and in that slice of time, Akira slips.

Akira seats him on his lap. Ryo barely had the time to register the new position before he feels Akira's lips closing on the exposed part of his neck. A bite, and Ryo gasps at the sudden sting. The pain quickly subsides as Akira's warm tongue laps at the broken flesh, causing Ryo to shiver. Akira grabs the back of his head and pulls him in for a kiss. Ryo braces himself on Akira's shoulders, fingers bunching up the dark fabric.

The kiss is wild and sloppy, with Akira's long tongue licking his lips, his teeth, and intertwining with his own. Ryo instinctually tries to kiss back. He angles his head to the side to let their mouths slide smoother. He learns quickly how overwhelmingly absurd it was to make out with Akira, with his long fangs, demonic tongue, and a scalding temperature to take into account. He nips at Akira's bottom lip and feels the other boy's mouth stretch into a wide grin. Akira lets him do as he pleases, lets him pepper kisses along his jawline and down the column of his neck. It's not long before the Akira pulls him back up to slot their mouths together once more.

It's incredible and terrifying, Ryo concludes. Akira's arms keeping him in place, the same arms that he has seen rip demons in half as if they were mere ragdolls. The sharp points of Akira's fangs make contact with the sensitive parts of his mouth. Belatedly, he notices the undeniable copper taste of blood.

Ryo feels himself go dizzy, and he realizes how badly he needs to breathe. He pushes at Akira's shoulders as a signal. The other boy relents, and watches as Ryo gulps mouthfuls of air. He savors the view of Ryo lacking in composure, for once not in complete control. He uses that moment to grab at Ryo's hips, and proceeds to grind his crotch on the other's backside. Ryo's breathing hitches. Akira flashes him a shit-eating grin.

"I've been hard for the last 30 minutes." 

Ryo stares at him for a brief second, then throws his head back and laughs. He's not sure if he feels disturbed or impressed by that fact.

He fixes his gaze back on Akira and grinds down the same time he licks his lips, feeling the girth of Akira between the curves of his ass. He moans appreciatively, and watches as Akira's eyes grow more manic at each passing second.

It's dangerous, incredibly so, and he really should be afraid. Akira might transform anytime soon, but that thought only makes him more excited.

He lets out a long moan as Akira delivers a particularly sinful roll of his hips. With a smile that matches the hysteria in Akira's eyes, he decides he's too far gone to care.

**Author's Note:**

> We goin to hell bois 
> 
> I wrote this in January for the first anniversary but then college hit me like a freight truck. It's now April. Lmao
> 
> This fic is sponsored by Hotline Miami OST and Kensuke Ushio's Devilman Crybaby OST. Especially 'Buddy Ryo', that is one bomb ass track
> 
> hope y'all felt the vibe I was going for


End file.
